Some of the most well-known and cherished operas in the standard repertoire follow a simple, yet effective format based on an alteration between sections that convey narrative (recitative) and sections that convey expression (aria). This format, the so-called “number opera,” thrived in Europe for nearly two centuries. Although opera in its original form in the early seventeenth century was largely organized around recitative alone (the stile rappresentativo), the aria gradually became the more dominant element in the course of the seventeenth century, perhaps because of the increased rise of public opera houses and the corresponding rise in the stature of solo singers. By the century’s end, recitatives became vehicles for dramatic action and dialogue, while arias became points of focus on a significant aspect of the narrative in the preceding recitative. However, through the course of the eighteenth century, the appeal of the aria dramatically came to outweigh that of the recitative. Tens of thousands of operas followed this fundamental scheme, until irrevocable changes in the nineteenth century put an end to it all. Opera is dramatic narrative in music. A story is being told, and thus the role of the recitative in opera is crucial. Without it, we miss a fundamental part of the narrative, yet few listeners of opera truly appreciate its importance. Opera lovers can readily identify, even sing arias from the standard operas, yet most would be hard pressed to name one recitative. Vocal recitals commonly feature aria excerpts from operas, yet I have yet to know of a recital that has featured recitatives, the exception being a recitative that precedes the featured aria. Singers may feel that recitatives are inadequate means for exhibiting their skills, despite the fact that a recitative can be as musically and technically demanding as an aria. Ultimately, recitatives have never enjoyed the popularity of arias, and this is most likely because their function demands a unique musical design. Arias are melodic, “tuneful,” and memorable. They are varied and diverse from a musical standpoint and often feature passages that showcase a singer’s abilities. Recitatives, whose main function is storytelling, place less emphasis on musical interest. The music is often speech-like, neither tuneful, nor melodic, and thus far less memorable. The words are generally prosaic, conversational or even colloquial, lacking a poetic meter or a rhyme scheme. The accompaniment tends to be keyboard alone (harpsichord, organ or piano) and thus from a timbral standpoint lacks the diversity of color that is so characteristic of many an aria. In certain instances, especially in the interests of meeting pressing deadlines, recitatives have been composed by a composer’s assistants, as was the case with Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia. Nonetheless, some especially sensitive composers have been attentive to providing as much musical worth in their recitatives as in their arias. Johann Sebastian Bach, for example, exquisitely painted the horrors of Jesus’ crucifixion in the recitative “Ach, Golgotha, unsel’ges Golgotha” (“O Golgotha, unhappy Golgotha”) from the St. Matthew Passion by means of a fluctuating tonality. The unstable tonality, wandering from A-flat major through D-flat, G-flat, C-flat and finally back to A-flat major, vividly portrays how “the Lord of majesty must scornfully perish here.” This recitative also features an unusual accompaniment of two oboes d’caccia as well as continuo:

Concluding with an atypically unresolved augmented fourth, the vocalist is given no opportunity to cadence, which is undoubtedly a reference to the text. Moments later a recitative featuring Jesus’ climactic outburst “Eli, Eli, lama asabthani?” (My God, why hast thou forsaken me?”) comprises startling harmonic progressions in B-flat minor (an uncommon key in the eighteenth century) and a disjunct vocal line that depict Jesus’ agony on the cross. The accompaniment is unexpectedly continuo alone, rather than the strings that have accompanied Jesus’ recitations throughout the passion (the tempo marking is Bach’s own):

Recitatives in the St. Matthew Passion, sung predominantly by the evangelist and Jesus, are markedly similar to those from contemporary opera. And like opera, the difficulty of these vocal parts demands first-class singers. All of Mozart’s operas adopt the number-opera format, although Mozart’s heightened sensitivity to dramatic and musical flow could not ignore the significance of recitatives. His recitatives often feature harmonic progressions whose bass lines move in semitones or a circle of fifths. Non-functional harmonic progressions are common, and the harmonic rhythms tend to be quite slow. Harmony and harmonic changes in the accompaniment can be agents for underscoring a significant word or phrase in the vocal part, as in Don Octavio’s recitative from Act 1 of Don Giovanni (notes marked with an encircled “X” represent instances in which appoggiaturas would be added by the singer):

In this recitative (preceding the famous aria “Dalla sua pace”) Don Octavio learns from Donna Anna how Don Giovanni seduced her and callously killed her father. Stunned, he resolves to avenge his beloved. Note how Mozart emphasizes the word “nero” (black) in the second measure by harmonizing it with a diminished seventh chord, thereby using harmonic dissonance to stress the darkness of Don Giovanni’s character. The word “petto” (in my heart) is harmonized against a first-inversion dominant ninth chord, another point of emphasis as Don Octavio firmly resolves to take action. Clearly, this is not a perfunctorily composed recitative that acts simply to introduce an aria, but rather a keen representation of a character’s emotional state. By the nineteenth century, composers (and presumably listeners as well) grew tired of the centuries-old format of the number opera, and thus sought ways to build a seamless, continuous flow into the drama’s music. Wagner, we know, was instrumental and highly influential in blurring the boundaries between aria and recitative, yet he could not completely disregard the significance of recitatives in providing vital information. Act 2, Scene 2 of Die Walkyrie, for example, features a lengthy recitative between Wotan and Brunnhilde (accompanied by the orchestra), in which Wotan explains to her (and thus the audience) the origins of the gods' afflictions. Examples may also be found in twentieth-century opera. Strauss prefaced the 1916 version of Ariadne auf Naxos with an extensive recitative (“Mein Herr Haushofmeister!”), which is instrumental in explaining the opera’s intricate plot, and Debussy brilliantly recaptured the stile rappresentativo in Pelléas et Mélisande, whose five acts are predominantly recitative-like. Even Alban Berg could not dispense with an occasional recitative in his 1922 opera Wozzeck. The opening scene of Act 2 is one example, in which Wozzeck submissively surrenders his hard-earned money to his common-law wife Marie:

What sets this brief moment in relief is the starkness of the accompaniment, comprising a simple C-major triad held for eight measures. In an Expressionist harmonic framework this triad, perhaps the most fundamental harmonic unit in Western music, is alarmingly out of context, a marvelous nuance to portray the ordinariness of the couple’s existence. George Bernard Shaw, certainly no stranger to the world of opera, once dismissed the recitative passages of a Handel opera as “unnecessary tedium.” In certain instances, Shaw’s criticisms are justified. However, there are many other instances in which recitatives not only relay critical information, but also capture and project a character’s emotional condition. Perhaps one day, a bold singer will program a recital with some of these extraordinary recitatives. I look forward to that.

When I was young, my family and I used to go to recitals. I never really understood why people loved operas and recitals so much. In fact, my parents loved them so much that they entered me into a school who teaches music. It was actually one of the best in the country back then. I did learn a lot from them, however, the fact that I do not really like them so much still remains. I can respect others, considering it is really subjective